


Secret Santa

by Im_a_huge_fan_of_coffee



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Modern Era, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-17 04:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13069383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_a_huge_fan_of_coffee/pseuds/Im_a_huge_fan_of_coffee
Summary: Ross is being furtive over the festive season... and Jim can’t help but want to find out why.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarigoldVance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldVance/gifts).



> A gift for my darling Miss MarigoldVance, who deserves this most utterly, and to whom I hope it brings a little ray of Chrismtas cheer.  
> You know why.

The first time Jim asks is the first time they fuck.

  
“So what exactly is it that you do again?”

“Oh, just seasonal work,” Ross shrugs. Jim already knows that he hasn’t been in the city long, and he’s told him all about wanting to wait to find something really good rather than get himself involved in a contract he can’t get out of. “This summer I was a lifeguard.”

Jim raises his eyebrows and makes a dirty Baywatch joke.

Ross sets his glass down and laughs at Jim over the rim. He can’t quite believe this is going so well. Not that there’s any reason for it not to, but generally he finds dates a little awkward – all the small talk and uncomfortable pauses. Of course, it’s not the first time he’s spoken to Jim, not by far – all those times they’ve met in the bar whilst out with friends.

Ross still remembers the first time he clocked him across the busy space, all perfectly sculpted golden hair and that bloody spectacular backside – and he couldn’t quite believe his luck when he realised that Dwight knew his whole entourage, dragging Ross across the room to join them. He’d spent the first ten minutes sneaking glances at Goldie before he plucked up the courage to talk to him, offering to buy everyone a round and finally turning to face him.  
“What’ll it be?” he asks softly.  
“Whatever you’re having,” the man smiles.  
Ross hands him a dripping glass of IPA and clinks his own against it.  
“Thanks… Ross, was it?” Goldie asks.  
“Yeah, Ross, that’s right. Cheers, ahh –”  
“Jim,” he supplies with a smile, revealing a devastating set of dimples. “Call me Jim.”

  
Since then they’ve run into each other a few times, but it takes weeks before Ross thinks to ask him out without the others. To his delight Jim accepts, so over burgers and beer they get to know each other away from the filthy comments that Dwight normally slurs into his ear all night long regarding what he should be doing to Jim, and away from the braying laughter of Jim’s noisy friends.

Ross had been worried that Jim might cancel as he watched rain turn to snow from his bed that morning, fat flakes piling up high and covering the dirty sidewalks with a pristine white blanket for just a few minutes before it was turned to a grey slush by the relentless traffic and angry commuters; but Jim messaged him at seven all the same and told him he was just leaving and that he’d see him in thirty.

 

The snow has stopped falling for now, but it’s freezing outside and the windows of the bar are steamy from wet coats and scarves piled high on the back of the tall stools.

Jim drains his beer and looks thoughtfully at Ross. He hadn’t imagined him to be so funny, coming across kind of quiet and reserved all the times they’d met before, though he guesses the rowdy company Jim keeps has probably made him feel a little out of sorts. He’d been wondering whether he should just ask him out when Ross had got to it first, so he’s a little worried that they’re reaching their limit where alcohol is concerned if he wants to keep making a good impression.

He makes to grab his scarf from where he’s sitting on it, but Ross’s face falls.  
“Oh. You ahh, you off then?” he asks with a definite hint of disappointment. Ross had naively assumed that Jim was having just as good a time as he was, and had hoped they might not call it a night yet.  
“Only if you’re coming too. I thought maybe we could take a walk?” Jim offers.  
Ross’s face lights up as he quickly finishes his beer.  
“Shit, yeah, I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

They stroll slowly along the cold streets, not aiming for anywhere in particular. Given the late hour there are far fewer pedestrians around than during the day, and they can take their time meandering through the city centre. The department stores are already lit up for Christmas, their gigantic window displays full of baubles and huge decorations. Ross pulls his coat a little tighter around his body as he sneaks a glance at Jim next to him. 

 _Fucking gorgeous_ , he thinks.  
Jim is saying something but Ross doesn’t hear him, instead watching the delicious way his lips curl and curve around every word, wondering not for the first time how they might feel against his own.

They turn the corner and Ross loses his train of thought when they catch sight of the large square that opens up before them. The museum plaza is usually empty and wide, but now it is filled with the most enormous tree in the centre of a doughnut-shaped ice rink, almost every inch of it covered in twinkling lights.

“Oh – can we go skating? Please?” Ross turns to him, excited eyes reflecting the golden tree in front of him.  
“Really? I ahh, well, yeah, if you like. Do you know how to skate though? I’m not very good…” Jim mumbles as he follows Ross, shouldering his way past the spectators to the skate hire booth.  
“I’ve been once or twice. I’m sure we’ll manage. Besides, it’ll be fun.”

Ross flashes him a winning smile and Jim just laughs and rolls his eyes as Ross hands over his shoes and takes a seat on the nearby bench to change into his skates. Jim quickly joins him and once they’re ready they make the awkward walk along the rubber matting, blades wobbling on the uneven surface. Jim holds out his arm chivalrously as they reach the rink.  
“After you,” he says. “You’re sure this is a good idea? I’d hate for you to break your arm or something.”  
“Thanks,” Ross laughs. “It’s a great idea, trust me. Besides, how bad can it be?”

 _Pretty fucking bad,_ Jim thinks to himself as he watches Ross glide off effortlessly across the ice.

He steps hesitantly through the gate and almost immediately falls, grabbing onto the rim of the clear plastic barrier that surrounds the rink. He takes a second to regain his balance and tries to remember how the heck to make his feet work. It’s been ages since he’s done this, and he really doesn’t want to make a dick of himself in front of Ross. He feels a whoosh of air and Ross slides up behind him.  
“You alright there?” he asks as he comes to a neat stop. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are gorgeously pink from the cold and Jim has to fight the urge to grab him and kiss him.  
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s been a while, that’s all – I’ll be with you in a second.”  
Ross smiles brightly.  
“I haven’t done this for ages either! I’d forgotten how good it feels.” He looks back across the expanse of ice in front of them. “Ready? Are you coming?”  
“Go ahead,” Jim waves. “I’ll catch you up.”

Ross grins over his shoulder as he moves off and Jim steels himself as he follows, ankles wobbling dangerously as he lets go of the edge and begins to slide slowly forward.

He carefully lifts his feet one by one, hands braced out in front of him on the end of stiff arms, trying to keep himself upright. Just as he starts to relax and fall into an unsteady rhythm a young woman passes him just too close and catches the tip of his elbow. His feet slide out from underneath him and for a few slow-motion seconds he flails wildly, arms and legs flying uselessly before he lands flat on his ass with a heavy thud.  
A pair of skates scratches up behind him and he finds himself looking straight up at Ross who is clearly trying not to laugh.  
“You weren’t kidding, huh? Here, up you get.” He offers Jim his hand and Jim hauls himself to his feet with no small degree of difficulty, brushing ice off his jeans as he goes.  
“It’s really not so hard once you get going. I’ll help you, if you like.” Ross swivels round so he is facing Jim, and whilst skating backwards he gives Jim a few swift pointers. “Come on. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”  
Jim frowns dubiously but he shuffles forward all the same, and with Ross’s encouragement he actually finds that he’s made a full circuit of the rink. Another smiling couple swish past them and he finds himself wobbling again but he grabs hold of Ross’s forearms and manages to right himself before he goes over. He smiles sheepishly at Ross, but Ross just grins back and manoeuvres himself round to Jim’s side.

Before he realises what he’s doing, he reaches down and grabs Jim’s hand in his own, linking their fingers together so that Jim can hold onto him more tightly.  
Jim just stares at him in reply, and suddenly Ross worries he’s overstepped the mark.  
“Is this — is this alright?” he whispers with a small frown.  
“Yeah. Definitely. More than alright.” Jim squeezes his hand and Ross relaxes, leading Jim around the rink in slow circles. Slowly Jim finds his confidence, and though he’s pretty sure he could manage without Ross’s help now he doesn’t let go. Other couples skate past them, all flushed cheeks and eyes glowing in the light of the blue neon strip around the edge of the ice.

Ross watches the shifting patterns of the light show projected up the front of the museum, the grey stone turned pink and green as giant snowflakes drift across the façade.  
“This is nice,” he murmurs.  
Jim looks up at him and grins as they approach the side of the rink.  
“It really is. But I feel bad for slowing you down. How about you leave me here for a sec and you go do your thing?”  
“You sure?” Ross asks, but Jim can see he’s keen, almost bouncing on the tips of the blades.  
“Get outta here, go on. If you’re lucky I’ll still be here waiting when you’re done.”

Ross laughs and deposits Jim safely at the edge, before he pushes off at frankly astonishing speed. Jim watches him take the corners low, his hand grazing the surface of the ice. He weaves in and out of the other skaters as he makes three circuits, finally coming to a halt right in front of Jim, turning his skates sideways so that a small shower of ice sprays over Jim’s feet and his body is just inches from Jim’s own.  
“Jeez. You’re really good at this,” Jim says, and suddenly Ross is somehow even closer, so close that Jim can smell his aftershave and feel the tiny puffs of air that hang in the frosty air between them. Jim instinctively reaches up to brush back a stray curl from Ross’s forehead, and Ross breathes even harder as his mouth falls open.  
He swallows heavily and decides to take a chance.  
“Want to see what else I’m good at?” he whispers with the slightest lift of his eyebrows, not taking his eyes off Jim’s.  
“Oh fuck, yes,” Jim blurts, and suddenly they’re both making for the gate as fast as they can, scrabbling to pull off their skates and tugging shoes on over damp socks.

Jim debates hailing a cab but decides it’s probably just as quick to go on foot given the slushy state of the roads, so they walk quickly as Jim leads the way back to his flat. Ross wants to take Jim’s hand again, but he doesn’t know what the rules are now that the prospect of Jim falling flat on his ass is greatly diminished, so he settles for shoving his hands in his pockets and pressing himself against Jim’s side instead, the shorter man’s shoulder rubbing against the top of his arm.  
“Where exactly do you live?” he asks, and suddenly realises that there’s so much they don’t know about each other yet.  
“Just a few blocks from here, actually,” Jim replies.  
Ross looks around at the large brick buildings that they hurry past and wonders to himself quite how Jim can afford to live in this part of town.  
“You said you’re a graphic designer, right?”  
“Yeah,” he smiles, knowing exactly what Ross is really asking. “It pays the bills, but luckily I was left the flat as an inheritance. It’s not that close to the office, but it suits me just fine and the neighbours are nice, so I don’t see any reason to live anywhere else.”  
“Sweet,” Ross replies. It’s certainly a better deal than the cramped apartment he shares with Dwight in their noisy borough. He loves his friend but a little privacy wouldn’t go amiss now and then.

“Here we are,” Jim announces, and jogs up a short flight of stairs to a glossy black front door. Ross whistles softly to himself as Jim fumbles with the key, cursing himself as he drops them on the step.   
“No Christmas decorations?” Ross frowns at the building before he looks up and down the dark street, finding only a few scant festive lights and wreaths.  
Jim finally gets the lock open and opens the door with a flourish.  
“Ross, it’s December the first, it’s still a whole month ‘til Christmas.”  
“Yeah, I am aware of that thanks,” Ross mumbles. “Just thought, you know. Nice street, maybe you guys have some kind of rule about all having to get stuff up at the same time. Keep up appearances, whatever.”  
Jim snorts and shakes his head in amusement.  
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who gets all the tinsel out the day after hallowe’en.”  
“No, I just – I just like Christmas, that’s all,” Ross says defensively, and suddenly he isn’t sure this is such a good idea any more, but Jim holds out his hand and pulls him into the hallway and no sooner than Ross has closed the door behind him suddenly, finally, _oh thank Christ_ , they’re kissing.

Jim’s mouth is everything Ross thought it would be, his lips soft and tongue hot as he grazes it against Ross’s own. Jim grabs him by the collar of his coat and pushes him back against the closed door, pulling himself back slightly as he smiles wickedly and says, “There’s only one thing I want to get up at the same time as anyone else.”  
Ross can’t help himself but he snorts and laughs, throwing his head back.  
“Really? All the things you could have chosen to say right then and that’s what you went with?”  
“Well. Depends. Did it work?” Jim asks with a twinkle in his eye.  
Ross catches Jim’s scarf in his hand and yanks him back in for another kiss.  
“You fucking bet it did,” he breathes.

  
Jim isn’t any quicker with the second lock, but this time it isn’t his fault. Ross’s hands roam up under the back of his coat and grab at his ass while he kisses along Jim’s hairline at the back of his neck, his scarf having been discarded somewhere on the stairs. Jim curses the broken lightbulb for leaving him in the dark, and he almost gets the key in when Ross playfully bites his neck and a moan escapes Jim’s mouth, his body shuddering as Ross inadvertently discovers his weak spot.  
“Look, unless you want to fuck out here I suggest you give it a break for just two seconds,” he hisses, shaking him off as he tries desperately not to wake the neighbours.  
Ross ignores him and slides his hands round the front of Jim’s jeans to work at his belt.  
“Fucking hell,” Jim mutters, sighing with relief as the key finally slides home and he throws the door open, flinging the keyring in the direction of the sofa as he practically drags Ross through the lounge and into his bedroom.

Jim hits the bedside lamp while Ross tugs at his coat, cursing himself for wearing so many damn layers. To his annoyance, Jim is far ahead of him in the undressing stakes, Ross having already given him a head start on the landing. Jim’s jean’s go flying past his head while he toes off his shoes, and when he looks up again Jim is standing naked in front of him, walking his fingers up Ross’s still-shirted chest.

“Tell me again why we didn’t do this sooner?” he asks, and Ross just shakes his head.  
“I honestly have no idea.”  
Jim reaches up to wind his hands in Ross’s hair and pulls him in for another kiss. He’s been wild about Ross’s mess of dark hair since the first time he saw him, but he had no idea how much of a turn-on it would be to actually get his hands on it. He gives it an experimental tug as they kiss hungrily and to his delight Ross lets out a low growl into his mouth, kissing him harder and opening his mouth to let Jim slide his tongue inside as their bodies press closer together.

Ross breathlessly pulls back and lifts his hand to trace the curve of Jim’s lips, and Jim opens up just enough to let the tip of Ross’s finger slip inside. He watches Ross’s wide eyes grow dark, then darker still as he sucks the finger in to the first knuckle and circles it with a teasing tongue.

“Oh, you are in so much trouble,” Ross mutters, and he splays his free hand on Jim’s chest and gives him a light shove back onto the bed.

Ross hurriedly tears at the rest of his clothes while Jim lazily rolls himself onto his stomach, dipping his hand into the nightstand and chucking the bottle of lube onto the bed. The mattress dips as Ross climbs on too, and Jim smiles into the pillows as he throws a shadow across the room and the heat from his body hovers in the air above Jim’s back. Without warning Ross bites at the back of his neck again, and Jim whimpers until Ross moves down his body, licking a long, slow stripe all the way down his spine until he reaches his backside. He gives him a playful nip on his cheek but Jim yelps.  
“Ouch! I think – I think I did some damage when I fell earlier,” he says sheepishly, and Ross looks closer at the yellow bruise blooming there.  
“Sorry baby,” he murmurs, planting a light kiss on top of it instead. Jim sighs and shifts his legs slightly wider to give Ross more space, his heart picking up pace when he hears the familiar click of the bottle top and imagines Ross behind him slicking up those long fingers for him.

Within seconds, the hand is between his legs, and Jim feels Ross teasing over his entrance, hot skin rubbing cold liquid in slow and careful circles. Jim writhes underneath him and pushes his hips up to try and coax Ross in, but Ross just pushes him back down onto the bed and lets out a low laugh.  
“Easy tiger, we’ve got all night,” he says. “And here’s me thinking you were a nice boy.”  
“I am a nice boy,” Jim huffs into the pillow. “I just want to be fu-uhh!” He lets out a strangled moan as Ross finally eases his thumb inside, first to the knuckle, and then all the way in. Jim balls his hands in the sheet on either side of his head as Ross drags out a slow rhythm with his hand, driving his thumb deep and twisting it slowly as he eases out again. He feels Ross lean lower over his back as he watches intently, mesmerised but he way he disappears inside Jim and utterly turned on by the muffled noises the blond is making.

“Are you ready for another?” he asks, but instead of replying Jim just turns his head to the side with a sly smile and reaches round to slide one of his own fingers in alongside Ross’s.  
“Oh fuck,” Ross gasps as Jim groans and screws his eyes shut. The drag of Jim’s finger alongside his own makes Ross’s heart beat even faster, and a trail of precum drips from his cock and trickles down Jim’s gorgeous backside. Jim holds them both tightly in, and he picks up the pace and fucks himself on their combined fingers, Ross content to watch and follow Jim’s lead as they work him open. Ross can’t resist occasionally rubbing over the spot that makes Jim flinch and gasp, delighted at the way Jim’s body arches underneath him. He thinks about adding a third finger, but instead he gives Jim a sharp tap on his hip and pulls out completely, causing Jim to whine at he loss of sensation.

“Turn over,” Ross says softly, and Jim quickly flips himself onto his back, winding his legs around Ross so that he still kneels between them. He reaches out and wraps his hand around Ross’s cock, tugging at him with slow, tight strokes until Ross falls forward, his hands braced either side of Jim’s shoulders and his mouth hanging open in total pleasure. Jim trails the wetness from the head down his shaft with his thumb, and with his free hand he scrabbles for the lube where it’s become tangled in the sheets. He quickly slicks Ross up and pours some between his own legs for good measure, before he takes his hands away and folds them behind his head with a cocky smile.

“Show me how much trouble I’m in then,” he says, and Ross smiles as he hooks Jim’s legs around his back, lining himself up with Jim’s wet hole and nudging the head of his cock slowly inside. Jim’s head falls back and he breathes hard as he takes him in, the hot stretch giving way to unbelievable fullness and pleasure. Ross gives him a moment to adjust before he rolls his hips forward; slowly at first but soon he gives way to the near-agonising heat and tightness and can’t help but drive himself into Jim, his body jolting up the bed as he cries out on every thrust. Ross’s hands trail down Jim’s ribs, gently and at complete odds with the pounding he is giving Jim, his fingers tracing across his chest and tugging at his nipples. Jim knows he isn’t going to last long if Ross keeps this up so he suddenly sits up, bringing his mouth against Ross’s in a crashing kiss, more teeth than lips but it serves the purpose and Ross slips out, letting Jim wriggle free. Ross finds himself flipped over and before he knows what is happening, Jim sits on top of him and straddles his hips.

“I’ll drive, darling,” Jim smirks, and Ross just lies back astounded as Jim sinks down onto him, his cock inching deliciously into Jim until he is fully seated. In the orange light of the lamp Jim practically glows above him, his hair gold and cheeks red, though Ross knows that isn’t from the cold walk. Jim plants his hands on Ross’s chest and raises himself up on his knees as far as he can before he slams himself back down all the way, and this time it’s Ross yelling.  
“Shh!” Jim giggles, but he does it again all the same, and again; each time Ross moaning louder and bucking his hips up off the bed to meet with Jim’s on their way down. He angles himself upwards and suddenly Jim throws his head back, fingers scraping down Ross’s chest as Ross hits the spot with every thrust, nailing into his prostate until Jim feels the familiar white heat prickling up his thighs. Ross takes the hint and takes his leaking cock in his hand, his strokes hard and fast. Ross brings Jim off with a cry, come painting lines up Ross’s stomach, white on dark as he bears down on Ross and shudders.

  
Ross sits up, gets a hand behind Jim’s head and fuses their mouths together, his tongue licking into Jim’s mouth even as a moan works it’s way free. Jim as he pulls his mouth away, pressing his lips to Ross’s ear.  
“I want to feel you come inside me,” he whispers.  
“Oh god,” Ross groans. He sinks his teeth into the side of Jim’s neck and does exactly that. His eyes slam closed, his breath stuttering out, his body going rigidly stiff as he pulses hot and deep inside Jim’s ass. Jim’s hands stroke his hair, his lips pressing light kisses all over Ross’s face until they both collapse backwards onto the mattress, panting loudly.

As their breathing levels out, Jim leans over the side of the bed and grabs a discarded towel to clean them up, mentally complimenting himself on his earlier laziness in tidying up before he flicks off the light with a satisfied sigh. Ross hauls him down on top of him, nestling Jim’s head into his shoulder and stroking the tips of his fingers up and down Jim’s back; and they fall asleep to the muffled thud of snowflakes hitting the dark window and the faint sound of Jingle Bells drifting up from the ground floor.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The second time Jim asks, Ross nearly gives the game away.

  
Ross is woken abruptly the buzzing by his phone still tucked in his jeans pocket, vibrating against the wooden floorboards. He blinks blearily as he looks around the unfamiliar room before remembering where he is, and turns his head to find Jim dribbling onto the pillow next to him. He smiles at the sight but extracts himself from their tangled mess of limbs and gets to the phone just as the theme from the A-team starts up at full volume. Ross frantically stabs at the phone to shut it up as he stumbles into the lounge, eventually pressing it to his ear and answering it with a grunt.

  
“Where the hell are you? The bus is leaving in five minutes!”  
“Uhh? What time is it?” Ross pulls the phone away from his ear to check the display but Dwight answers him first.  
“It’s ten past eight Ross, and you’ve got twenty minutes to get your sorry arse to work and in a suit.”  
“Fuck,” Ross mutters. He ducks his head round the bedroom doorframe to check that he hasn’t woken Jim, finding him still silently sleeping in the mussed-up bed.  
“Look I’ll… I’ll meet you there, alright? It’s way quicker if I just go from here.”  
“Here? Where’s here? Oh my god – are you with Jim? You are, aren’t you!” Dwight crows.  
“Shh, the whole world doesn’t need to know. Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” Ross says defensively.  
“Well I hope he’s the best fuck you’ve ever had, because if you’re late Caroline will probably cut your dick off.”  
“He’s…” Ross looks over Jim’s sleeping form again and smiles to himself when he starts to recall flashes of the previous night. “I’m not gonna be late. I’ll see you soon, ok?”

  
He hangs up and looks anxiously around Jim’s room, spotting a half-open door that leads to a small en-suite. He hopes to god Jim won’t mind him using his bathroom but there’s no way he can show up without cleaning up properly, and he really doesn’t want to wake him up. He showers quickly, brushing his teeth with his fingers and towelling off his hair as best he can, though he knows it’s going to drip down his back all the way to work. He’s just sliding his shirt on when Jim sleepily sits up with the duvet pooling round his waist, looking at him in confusion as he lightly scratches through the hair on his chest.

  
“I didn’t have you down as the kind of guy to hit and run. You leaving without telling me?” Jim looks faintly hurt, his voice all husky and sleepily deep.  
“Oh! No! Not at all.” Ross slides himself down onto the bed, sitting next to Jim and bringing a hand up to stroke Jim’s fluffy hair. “I have to go to work, is all. I’m actually really late. Only I didn’t want to wake you. You looked pretty comfy.”  
“Work? On a Saturday morning? What time even is it?” Jim pouts.  
“Only a little after eight, but yeah, unfortunately; I work weekends too. You know, hospitality stuff.”  
“Have you got time for breakfast beforehand?” Jim had been hoping for a repeat performance of last night before they even thought about getting out of bed, but now that he thinks about it food might not be a bad shout first. “There’s a great café just down the street.”  
Ross shakes his head sadly.

  
“Not even a coffee here?”  
“Sorry, I really don’t. Man, I feel bad now though.” Ross’s hand moves from Jim’s hair to cup the side of his face. “You should go back to sleep. Don’t ruin your lie-in on my account.” Ross stands and slips into his coat but Jim rolls out of the bed and snatches the towel up from the floor.

  
“The least I can do is see you out,” he says, following Ross to the door and leaning round the frame as Ross steps onto the landing. He turns and ducks down and catches Jim’s mouth in a soft kiss, followed by another, deeper one. For a second he thinks, fuck it, he could just stay and go back to bed with Jim; heck, the sofa would do – even the floor right here is looking pretty tempting to Ross right now as he runs his hands up Jim’s bare back - and to hell with the job, but he knows he really has to go. He bites his lip as he pulls away and Jim gives him a small wave as he jogs off down the stairs and out onto the frozen street.

 

* * *

“You’re cutting it bloody fine,” Dwight says as Ross hurries into the makeshift changing room, sliding a coffee across the table in the middle. 

“I know. Cheers man,” Ross nods as he throws open his locker and begins to grab his suit and shoes, replacing them with the wet bundle of his coat and scarf that he’s already taken off. He picks up one of the heavy black boots and frowns, rubbing over a small scratch on the shiny surface.  
“No-one is gonna see that. Who even cares about your boots? Just put the fucking things on.”  
“I care,” Ross mutters, but is interrupted from his inspection by the entrance of a slim and efficient-looking blonde already changed and ready in her outfit.

  
“If it isn’t Tweedledum and Tweedledee,” she says, pursing her lips, flicking through various pieces of paper attached to a clipboard in her hand.  
“Good morning to you too, Caroline. You look ravishing, as always,” Dwight tactfully ignores her greeting as a stupidly dreamy expression appears on his face.  
“And you look like hell,” she directs at Ross. “Where have you been?”  
“No-where. Sorry. I overslept,” he mumbles as he wriggles out of his jeans.  
“I was here on time!” Dwight pipes up. “He’s been sleeping around Caro, I wouldn’t get too close if I were you. Might have picked up all sorts,” Dwight grins as Ross bats him on the shoulder.  
“Ooh, who with? Is it that blond one you were telling me about?” Caroline asks Dwight over Ross’s head.  
“Hey! Do you two mind not discussing my sex life behind my back? It’s none of your business.”  
“It is my business, because I’m your boss. I’m sure you were having a simply lovely time, but don’t let relationships get in the way of your work. You’ve got a contract, and I don’t have time to find a replacement.”

  
Ross looks up apologetically but Caroline winks at him and he smiles. He knows she adores them really, even if Dwight has been hopelessly in love with her since the moment he met her and never wastes an opportunity to let her know.  
“See now, that’s never a problem for me. I’m single,” Dwight chimes in hopefully.

  
Caroline raises her eyebrows.  
“For good reason.”  
“Now that’s not very festive of you. Isn’t it the season for love and goodwill? I always thought Christmas was about giving back to other people, that’s why I’m here, anyway,” Dwight says.  
“No, you’re here because you’re doing community service for…” Caroline frowns delicately as she flips over one of the pages of Dwight’s employee file on the table, squinting at the writing, “defacing public property.”  
“Now just hang on a second — that’s not what it sounds like. And it was entirely his fault!” Dwight splutters incredulously, pointing at Ross, but Ross just holds his hands up in an innocent gesture.  
“No idea what you’re talking about. We all know I’m only here because I’m the embodiment of Christmas spirit and utterly in demand.” He grins widely at Caroline as Dwight mutters about being dragged down by bad company, and Caroline chucks him a bundle of white fluff before she turns neatly on her heel and holds her hand out to Dwight as he pulls his hat down on his head.  
“You’ve got two minutes, Ross. Come on, you,” she says to Dwight. “There’s already a massive queue.”

  
Ross stands up in the now-deserted room and slams the locker shut, fastening the top button of his jacket and adjusting his belt. He stands in front of the small mirror and adds the finishing touch, the white beard in his hands transforming him from Ross Poldark to Santa in one fell swoop – at least in the eyes of the kids waiting outside in the mall. He frowns as he notices the dark stubble rising up his cheeks peeking out the top of the beard. He’s supposed to shave, but he didn’t have the opportunity this morning, so he wriggles it a little higher until he is satisfied that he won’t be rumbled by any children.

  
Just before he ducks through the low door into the grotto he grabs his phone up from where he’s left it on the table and flicks through his messages to find Jim’s number. He hesitates for a second, wondering what he should say, but in the end he just settles for _Hey, I’m sorry again that I had to go. About last night, I had an amazing time. You blew my mind. R x_

  
As he stares absentmindedly at the sent message the phone vibrates, and Ross scans the reply, impressed at the speed Jim has sent it.

_So did I. Wish you were still here. Next time I’ll blow your dick too xx_

  
“Fucking hell,” he says out loud, smiling at Jim’s brazenness, letting his mind drift to the way Jim looked sitting on top of him last night, but he knows if he starts replaying it in his head he’s going to have all kinds of trouble so he quickly chucks the phone back down and hurries out into the twinkling, snow-covered den he affectionately calls his office.

 

* * *

 

“Jesus, these tights itch,” Dwight grumbles as he stands on one leg and scratches at the back of his calf, causing the bells on the curled toes of his shoes to jingle. Ross bites back a laugh at the ridiculous sight of Dwight in his elf costume, his skinny legs encased in their red and white striped tights, and the rest of his body clad in green felt shorts and gold-buttoned jacket to match Caroline’s. Dwight tugs off his hat, complete with pointed ears attached to the side that cover his own, and musses his hand through his hair. “And it’s so damn hot in this hat.”

Ross snorts and points to his own, tucked into his belt for safekeeping.  
“I hear you buddy. You should try this suit.”

  
They lean companionably against the wall in the service alley outside, trying desperately to cool down before their fifteen minute break is up. It’s been days since Ross last saw Jim, but he checks his phone and finds a string of messages from him all the same. He grins as he reads them; Jim going about his day, funny stuff that’s happened while he’s been at work. He isn’t quite sure how they’ve fallen so fast into this cosy pattern of talking to each other all day long, but all Ross knows is that he can’t wait to see Jim again. It helps that there have been a few dirty picture messages thrown in for good measure, but it certainly means that Ross can’t check his phone anywhere near the vicinity of Caroline.

  
“Well I just might. How come you get to be Santa anyway? Just because you actually applied for the job and I got made to do it doesn’t mean I’m not better looking. I should be the star of the show. Those from Goldie?” Dwight nods at the phone, puffing a candy-cane scented cloud out of his vape.  
“Yeah,” Ross smiles, not looking up from the screen.  
“Jeez, you’ve got it bad. Look at you. You’re practically glowing.”  
“I am not. I’m just hot,” Ross huffs, but he knows it’s true. He and Jim have worked out that they’re both free Saturday evening, so he only has two more days to wait.  
“Whatever. Come on. Time to get back to the love of my life.”

  
Dwight shoves his hat back on and Ross does the same, following Dwight back in to the building. Ross has already lost count of the number of kids they’ve seen so far, and it’s only the beginning of December. They come in a steady stream, class trips during the week and thousands of kids out shopping with their parents at the weekend. Dwight and Caroline do an outstanding job of keeping them entertained in the queue, and then usher them in to where Ross waits on the huge chair covered in snowy white fleeces, surrounded by frosted Christmas trees and even an animatronic reindeer munching away at a tall pile of carrots.

  
It’s repetitive, but he does love it – the expressions on the kids faces, the magic of it, they way they totally and utterly believe that they’re really seeing the Santa Claus. And Ross is more than willing to put on a performance, every time, wanting to make sure they have the best experience, even if by the end of the day he wants to slightly slam his head in the door from hearing himself say the same things over and over.

Ross knows he’s unusual for a Santa – most of the other positions in competing malls being taken by older guys with more conventional looks for the role, but he doesn’t care. He knows he’s good at it, even if he is actually too embarrassed to admit what he does to anyone other than Dwight, and he knows by the doe-eyed expressions on the parents’ faces too that they don’t think he’s half bad either, though he suspects that’s for entirely different reasons.

  
At least he knows they finish early today, so they only have to stick it out until three thirty before the onslaught of the weekend picks up the following day. Just as he settles down on the chair for their final session of the day, his phone rings in his pocket and he snatches it out.

  
“Hey! I thought I’d surprise you.”  
“Jim?”  
“Yeah, so listen. You know I was supposed to be working ‘til late today? Well all those meetings got scratched, so now I’m free all afternoon and I’m just walking around aimlessly right now. I know you said you were finishing at half three so I thought maybe you might like to do something together?”  
“I… yeah!” Ross shifts excitedly in his seat, feeling his heart start to thud through the thick red jacket at the prospect of seeing Jim in just a few hours.  
“Awesome. Where exactly is it that you work?” Jim asks.  
“The grotto, you know, the one at the Fraser mall,” Ross replies without thinking, distracted as Dwight starts gesturing to him to hang up through the draping silver tinsel curtain between them.  
“Sorry?”  
“Uhh… what I mean is, I’ll meet you at the mall,” Ross replies, eyes widening when he realises how close he’s come to revealing his secret to Jim. “The fountains in the centre? I think there’s a Santa’s grotto thing there, I’ll meet you by that.”  
“Oh okay, cool,” Jim says. “I’m happy to pick you up anywhere but if that’s easy for you then I’ll see you there. Looking forward to it.”  
Ross can hear him smiling on the other end of the phone.  
“Yeah. Me too. A lot.”

 

* * *

 

Jim strolls into the mall bang on time, walking slowly toward the centre with his hands in his pockets and humming along to the music piped through the air. He wonders if it would be totally inappropriate to just ask Ross to come straight back to his, but he thinks realistically they should try to do something civilised first. He’s already ducked back to his flat to freshen up and rub one out, the memory of Ross coming loudly as he savaged Jim’s neck still fresh in his mind. He approaches the fountain and waits casually against the tiled ledge, watching kids throw coins into the water and bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. As he scans the space he’s surprised to see a very familiar looking elf adjusting the cordon across the queuing area for the Christmas grotto, closing it off for the day.

“Dwight?” he calls as he ambles over.  
“Christ! Jim! Good to see you. Are you here to see Ross?”  
“Ahh… yeah, as it happens. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him?” Jim’s eyebrows fly up as he gives Dwight’s costume the once over.  
“‘Course I have,” Dwight says brightly, red cheeks shining in the fairy lights that  cover the arch above him. “He’s in there.” Dwight jerks his thumb towards the closed-off entrance, and Jim follows with his gaze, looking confused.  
“He… he is? What is he doing in there?”

  
Dwight’s eyes grow wide and he starts to stutter as it dawns on him that Ross hasn’t told Jim about his job. Ross had mentioned that he was meeting up with Jim after work and he’d been hoping to be changed and out of here ten minutes ago, but he’d been held up by the last child with an epically long Christmas wish list. Dwight knows he will be absolutely fucked if Ross finds out that he’s told Jim, so he frantically starts to back-pedal, trying to think of a plausible excuse.

  
“He’s ahh, well see, the thing is, he’s-”  
“Seeing me,” Caroline finishes, sashaying out of the little door that separates the mall from the changing room. She holds out her hand politely to Jim. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Caroline,” she says as she shakes Jim’s hand. “We were just catching up. Old friends. He’s just using the bathroom, he’ll be out in no time.”  
“Oh, cool. Nice to meet you,” Jim says, and Dwight looks like he could just about kiss Caroline right there. “So Dwight, I didn’t know you worked here. Nice outfit,” Jim grins, and Dwight starts to laugh but at that moment Ross bursts through the door and freezes in alarm upon seeing Jim waiting for him there.

  
“Jim!”  
“Hey.” Jim breaks into a wide smile on finally seeing Ross in the flesh again. He looks all rosy-cheeked and warm, his black sweater stretched tantalisingly over his gorgeous arms and Jim just wants to bury his face in his neck and stay there. “Caroline here was just telling me you guys were chatting. Hope I’m not interrupting anything. You ready to go?”  
“Chatting… yes! We were. About Dwight,” Ross exclaims, looking from Dwight to Caroline and back to Jim again.  
“And old friend stuff. I saw him loitering by the fountains and called him over,” Caroline chimes in cheekily.  
“Yeah, that too,” Ross says, feeling his cheeks start to flush at the though of having been so nearly caught in the act, as it were. “‘I’ll see you guys soon,” he says to Dwight and Caroline as he moves to Jim’s side, feeling Jim’s little finger catch through his for a second his beneath the sleeve of his coat.

Ross tugs Jim away and shoots Caroline a thankful look over his shoulder as they drift off into the crowds.

“So what did you fancy doing?” he asks as he turns his attention back to Jim. “I forgot to say, you look great.”  
“Not as good as you,” Jim replies, and this time he takes Ross’s hand properly after glancing at his watch. “Well, I was thinking – and this might be cheesy as fuck, but – there’s an old cinema near my place that’s playing Christmas classics, and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ is on pretty soon, if you felt like it?”  
“Yes!” Ross exclaims, then quickly coughs and tries to sound nonchalant. “I mean, cool, sounds good. I’m happy to do whatever. As long as I get to spend time with you.”

  
He doesn’t really want to reveal to Jim that he knows it word for word, like he does with most Christmas films. They make their way through town to the cinema, Jim telling Ross stupid stories from work and Ross bumping against his shoulder as they laugh. Jim gets the tickets, and Ross buys the popcorn, his hand hovering over the small of Jim’s back as they shuffle into the dark theatre to find seats near the back. Jim is pleased to see that there are only one or two other people in the room, their heads just visible above the bank of seats stretching down towards the front. They throw off their winter layers and settle down into their chairs, and after a brief moment of propriety Ross throws his arm around the back of Jim’s shoulders and rests his head on top of Jim’s. To his delight Jim responds by nestling in closer and draping his hand on Ross’s thigh. He idly throws popcorn into his mouth as the movie starts, smiling as the familiar scenes flash across the huge screen.

  
He’s so lost in the story that he doesn’t notice at first. The way Jim starts to scratch along the denim, his fingers drawing light patterns up his leg, working them slowly higher and higher. Jim steals a look at Ross in the dark, eyes lit up by the screen, engrossed. It isn’t that he isn’t enjoying this — the movie, being here with Ross — it’s just that Ross looks really, really good; and Jim hadn’t quite expected to be so ridiculously horny after his earlier activities in the shower.

  
It’s only when Jim reaches his crotch that Ross realises what’s going on. It doesn’t take long before it’s painfully obvious that his body is responding to Jim’s attentions, and he shifts in his seat to try and disguise the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans, but Jim just smiles in the dark and palms him harder, properly now. Ross breathes out hard and leans in to his ear.  
“Jim…” he wavers, but Jim ignores him and grabs the zipper, slowly pulling it all the way down and sliding his hand down the front of Ross’s boxers. Ross moans out loud but immediately stifles it, trying to sit more upright in his seat but not able to because Jim’s hand starts working slowly up and down his shaft and all of a sudden he has no strength left.

  
“Jim,” he whispers again, “What are you doing?”  
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jim whispers back, his face the picture of innocence. “Didn’t I tell you that the next time I saw you I was going to blow you?”  
“Here? There’s other people!” Ross hisses, but Jim runs his thumb across his slit and he lolls his head back against his chair as his breath hitches. Suddenly Jim removes his hand and Ross feels him slithering out his his seat, sinking to his knees in front of Ross and tugging gently at his waistband so that his rock-hard cock springs free from his underwear. Jim looks up at him with a wicked grin and licks his lips, his breath hot on Ross’s exposed skin.

  
“Jesus,” Ross breathes, his face a picture of total surprise.  
“Most people call me Jim,” he smirks, before he wraps his hand around the base of Ross’s cock again and flicks the lightest of licks across his head.  
“Oh god… they’re gonna hear me,” Ross stammers.  
“Well then, you’d better be quiet, hadn’t you,” Jim grins, and with that he licks at Ross again, light flickers all the way down his shaft and back up to the head again, letting his saliva slick Ross up until he can take him all the way into his mouth.

Ross scrabbles on the floor with his boots, torn between watching Jim’s every move and screwing his eyes shut. Jim sucks harder on his head, dragging his tongue up the vein on the underside until Ross is breathing hard and winding his fingers through Jim’s hair, pushing down with just the tiniest amount of pressure until Jim takes him to the back of his throat, bobbing his head up and down between Ross’s knees and burying his nose in the dark curls, drinking in Ross’s smell and taste and fuck if he isn’t getting off on this too.

Ross takes his hands from Jim’s hair and grips the armrests of his seat instead, the fake velvet fabric becoming sweaty under his palms as he tries desperately not to make a noise. Jim seems hell-bent on getting them caught, humming on Ross’s cock not quite loud enough to be heard over the noise of the film, but just hard enough to drive Ross mental. His toes curl in his shoes as he feels his balls drawing up, and he finally opens his eyes and looks down to find Jim practically laughing, his beautiful mouth stretched perfectly around Ross and his bright blue eyes dancing merrily as he watches Ross fight between total discomfort and utter pleasure.

Suddenly Ross just doesn’t care about about his reservations any more and he lets himself go, releasing into Jim’s mouth with a long, low whimper. He shoves his fist in his mouth and breathes hard through his nose as Jim drinks him down, his tongue flicking out to lap up every drop before he quickly tucks Ross back in and fastens his zipper up.

He plops himself back down in his seat, flushed and on the verge of giggling; and Ross yanks him in for a kiss, tasting himself on Jim’s tongue.

  
“You fucking bastard,” Ross mutters. “But bloody hell, thank you.”  
“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” Jim smiles, reaching across Ross’s lap to steal a sip of his coke, sliding back down to his original position on Ross’s shoulder and swinging his feet up to rest on the back of the seat in front of him. “So tell me. What did I miss?”


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, Jim doesn’t have to ask to find out.

 

* * *

  
“Don’t you think it’s weird that Dwight works as an elf?”  
“Don’t you think it’s weird that you’re thinking about Dwight right after sleeping with me?” Ross snorts with a grin.  
“Who says I wasn’t thinking about him the whole time?”

The pizza crust hits Jim squarely in the chest, and Jim laughs as he takes Ross’s foot and pulls him further towards himself, rubbing gently into the sole with his fingers.

Ross sighs as he sinks further into the remaining cushions with a sigh, the others scattered on the floor amongst the crumpled remnants of the pizza box and their discarded clothes. The only light in the room comes from the soft glow of the hundreds of tiny golden bulbs on the Christmas tree that Jim has finally put up, throwing long shadows over their still-sweaty skin. Ross could barely contain his glee when Jim asked if he’d like to help him decorate it; the bushy dark-green fir tree a stark contrast to the puny pot plant that balances precariously on top of the TV in the tiny lounge he shares with Dwight, groaning under the weight of the three sad-looking baubles they’ve managed to string from it’s branches.  
They lie at opposite ends of the sofa, legs draped all over each other in the middle, and Ross presses his thigh a little harder against Jim’s crotch, earning himself an approving moan.

“I mean seriously though,” Jim continues, shifting Ross’s leg so that he can concentrate. “He’s got to be nuts. Why does he do it?”  
“Well,” Ross begins thoughtfully, quickly considering his options.

On the one hand, he could just come out and tell Jim about the whole gig, about his being Santa Claus. He doesn’t want to lie to him, it’s only that he isn’t entirely sure how he’d take it. Most people just laugh and ask him what he really does, and judging by Jim’s line of questioning about Dwight, Ross can’t imagine he’ll respond any differently.  
Not that he blames him.  
It is a bit odd, but that doesn’t change the fact that Ross loves doing it. It’s already the 21st December, which means he only has to evade Jim’s questions for three more days before his contract is up. He’s hoping that one of the estate management jobs he really wants will come through soon, and then he can forget all about it.

“Dwight got himself into a bit of a… situation,” he explains. “He had to do some community service, and weirdly that was one of the options, so that’s what he chose.”  
Jim frowns and sits up a little higher so he can see Ross better.  
“He chose to wear tights? And pointy ears? And to work with crying kids all day long? Couldn’t he have… I don’t know, picked litter or something?”  
“It’s not like that,” Ross starts, but he swallows his words when he realises how close he is to giving himself away again. At that moment he makes up his mind that he won’t tell Jim. It’s simpler this way, and the last thing he wants it to scare him off by making him think he’s some kind of weirdo.  
“I mean Dwight said… yeah, the kids do cry sometimes, and there was that one time the kid threw up,” Ross shudders internally at the memory, “But he just loves making them light up. They’re so happy there, you know? He’s making magic. And it sort of rubs off… on him, makes him feel good. Sod the outfit, yeah that’s a pain but… I dunno, I don’t think it’s as bad as you think. And anyway, I love kids myself, I don’t think it’d be that hard working with them all day.”

  
Jim looks at him intently, a strange expression on his face.  
“Christ, you almost had me convinced there. Don’t get me wrong. I love kids too, really; only I can’t imagine doing it day in, day out. I guess Dwight’s a pretty good fit for an elf when it comes down to it; all bright-eyed and bouncy. I couldn’t imagine being a Santa though. Aren’t they all old, fat guys with nothing better to do?”  
Ross hums noncommittally and swallows hard, not sure of what to say; but Jim saves him from having to answer.  
“Oof. Budge up gorgeous, I have to pee.”

He taps Ross on the legs until he is free to roll himself off the sofa, and Ross watches him pad along the corridor, his gloriously pert backside swaying as he goes. He doesn’t begrudge Jim his opinion. He’s only saying what everyone else ever says. Ross has no idea quite why he loves Christmas as much as he does but it catches him by surprise every year; and he never gets tired of watching the first decorations go up, hearing Christmas songs, watching the random acts of love that suddenly appear in the strangest of places - and all in the name of the holidays.

  
He chews his lip as he stares at the ceiling and thinks of the other thing that’s caught him by surprise. He has no idea how it has come to pass that he’s spent almost every night for the last few weeks at Jim’s apartment. Between his early starts and Jim’s late finishes there has been rather less time for talking and rather more fucking than might be deemed civilised, but Ross is finding it harder and harder to ignore the way his chest feels like it might burst when he jogs up the stairs to Jim’s front door; the way Jim’s eyes flash when he laughs and leave Ross feeling weak at the knees.

  
If he’s honest, he has no idea what this is. Sure, he pretty much just wants to wear Jim like a Christmas jumper, but he’s beginning to realise that there’s more to it than just sex; he likes Jim, more than he dares to admit. He’s normally so careful with his heart and who he gives it away to, but he’s starting to think Jim might have just stolen it from him without him realising.  
Jim saunters back into the room, flashing Ross a dimpled smile and balancing two beers in his hand. He flops back down onto the couch and passes one to Ross, who coughs to clear his throat.

  
“So, I was wondering. I’m working til seven on Christmas Eve-”  
“Who has to work late on Christmas Eve?” Jim interjects, but Ross just chuckles.  
“Busiest day of the year,” he smiles. “I know. But I was wondering… if you were free, did you want to spend the evening together?”  
Jim feels his heart leap as he watches Ross’s dark eyes shining in the twinkling lights.  
“I’d love to,” he answers without hesitation. “My nephew Will is coming over for the day, but he will be back home with my brother by four thirty. We do it every year, actually. He’s five now, so it’s a load of fun; I take him into the city and we go do a heap of Christmas stuff together.”

  
Ross smiles at Jim’s warm description of his nephew. Maybe he does really love kids as much as Ross does after all.  
“And then I’m supposed to be going to Silver’s famous annual drinks party in the evening, but I’d love for you to come along, if you’d like?” Jim asks hopefully.  
Ross had kind of been hoping to have Jim all to himself, but he’s just content to see Jim at all on his favourite day of the year, even if it is in the company of Jim’s outrageously loud and filthy-minded friends.

  
“I’d love to,” he grins, and Jim presses a pleased kiss to his foot before he sits himself up and slides on top of Ross’s chest. From this distance his eyes look almost green, and Jim can’t help but nuzzle his nose into the hollow of Ross’s neck. He always smells so good, like pine and mint and some thing else, a sort of familiar mustiness than makes Jim feel inexplicably comfy. His skin is almost searingly hot on Jim’s own, cooled from his trip to the fridge. He realises he is looking at Ross with a stupidly smitten smile, so before he calls him out he plants a second kiss on his mouth and nudges Ross’s thighs a little wider apart so he can settle more comfortably between them.

  
“So tell me about this… ‘situation’ of Dwight’s. Must be a pretty excellent story to have gotten him arrested.”  
“Ahh,” Ross hums mysteriously as he takes a long swig of his beer, tracing the curve of Jim’s lips just inches from his own with his eyes, and wondering if Jim can feel the thudding of his heart through his ribs as strongly as Ross can. “Well. It all started with a goat…”

 

* * *

  
“Gotcha!” Jim yells as the snowball explodes into a puff of ice and a happy shriek rings out from behind the tree trunk. Will pokes his head round, red-faced and laughing as he takes aim and launches his own straight back at Jim. He lets it hit him in the shoulder, and he fakes staggering backwards and falling into the bank of snow with a crash as Will runs out and launches himself on top of Jim, sending them both rolling and giggling down the tiny slope. The park is still covered with a fresh blanket of powder, and Jim hasn’t had a good excuse for a snowball fight in ages.  
“Oh man, I think you won,” he puffs, slightly amazed at how knackered he already is after being chased around for the past half hour.  
“I know I did,” Will announces matter of factly. “You’re too old for this, Uncle Jim.”  
“Is that right?” Jim sits up and scrapes together a final handful of snow, sneakily shoving it down the back of Will’s neck, earning him more high-pitched squeals. “That’ll teach you!” He leaps up laughing, and helps Will to follow him as he shakes snow out of the bottom of his coat.

  
“So,” Jim sighs as he steers them towards the exit, throwing a quick glance at his watch. “What now, my young apprentice? Almost time to get you back to your Dad.”  
They’ve spent all morning and the best part of the afternoon together, and Jim is almost sad to see it’s nearly time to head back to his place so that Will can go home. Jim has taken him to the Christmas market and fed him more chocolate than he’s sure it’s possible for a human to eat, they’ve hunted for the biggest Christmas tree, built a snowman, been bowling – Jim even took him into the biggest toy store in the whole city and let him have his pick. He’s happily worn out and he can see that Will is starting to flag too.

  
“Well,” Will starts shyly, twisting the end of his scarf round his hand as they walk. “There was one thing I really, really wanted to do.”  
“Tell me little buddy, and I’ll make it happen.”  
Will looks up at Jim and beams.  
“Oh can we? Can we really?”  
Jim laughs and shakes his head.  
“Well not if you don’t tell me what it is that you want.”  
“Santa, of course! Do you think he’s still here, or has he had to go to the North Pole already?”  
Jim breaks into a wide grin and tugs Will’s hand to point him in the right direction.  
“I think you might just be in luck,” he says, thinking of a certain blue-eyed elf that he’s sure can help him out. “And I know exactly where he is.”

 

* * *

 

Will hops excitedly from one foot to the other. They’re almost at the front of the queue now, and though it’s been a long wait Will hasn’t complained once. Jim recognises Caroline, but she doesn’t seem to notice him – which doesn’t surprise him, as she probably isn’t expecting him to be accompanied by a kid. He can see Dwight just a few paces ahead of them, blowing magic snowy bubbles and making a general tit of himself. Jim has to laugh as they watch him work - he is bloody good at it after all. Jim smiles broadly at him as they approach, and Dwight returns the gesture before his eyes widen when he recognises Jim.

  
“Christ! What are you doing here?” he stammers, but Jim just places his hand on Will’s shoulder and explains. Dwight looks a little pale but he smiles weakly at Jim, and then more convincingly at Will.  
“Let me just see if Santa is ready, ok?”

  
He ducks his head through the silver curtain into the dim grotto, waving frantically at Ross as he finishes up with his current visitors. Ross frowns at him over his head. Dwight is trying to mouth something at him, but Ross is busy trying to concentrate so he just flashes him an annoyed look and ignores him as the boy and girl on their way out wave their protracted goodbyes. Dwight groans to himself but pops back out to where Jim waits, bending down on one knee to talk to Will.

  
“Want to go in alone, little mate? Leave boring old Uncle Jim out here?”  
Will looks uncertainly up at Jim, but he shrugs and ushers him forward.  
“Go on buddy. I’ll be here if you need me.”

  
Will smiles nervously and follows Dwight through the curtain to where Ross waits on his snowy chair. Ross watches Will’s eyes widen and hears him gasp as he notices the reindeer in the corner. Dwight is still gesticulating overt the boy’s head, but Ross can’t very well ask him what the matter is without giving the game away, so he simply says, “Thanks, Twinkletoes,” before he turns his attention to Will, patting the chair next to him and inviting him to come and take a seat. Dwight hears him start his spiel as he heads back out to the queue, hoping against hope that he can send Jim on his way none the wiser.

 

Of course, it was never going to be so easy. Will is completely fascinated, but he isn’t the most confident of boys. When he sees Santa in his beautiful suit, the funny elves, all the frosty trees and the sack full of presents leaning against the enormous chair that Santa sits in, he loses his nerve, and when Santa finally asks him what he’d like for Christmas all he can do is shake his head.

  
“Nothing?” Ross asks softly. The boy shakes his head again, biting his lip; but Ross is well used to shy kids. He smiles and says, “Do you want to whisper it?”  
Will hesitates for a moment, before he shakes his head a third time.  
“How about,” Ross says conspiratorially, “If your mum or dad came in here too, do you think that might help?”  
Will nods furiously, so Ross whistles loudly and Dwight’s head appears through the tinsel.  
“Can we have this young man’s grown-up? We’ve some urgent business that needs addressing.”  
Dwight looks horrified.  
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he whispers desperately, but Ross just nods.  
“Yes, please.” He has no idea what the fuck has got into Dwight, but he’s certainly acting pretty stupid. Dwight reluctantly disappears and Ross turns back to Will.  
“Who’s here with you today?”  
“My uncle,” Will says shyly. “Uncle Jim.”

  
Ross turns to watch as someone makes their way through the curtain, a flash of a familiar navy beanie fighting through the silver strings, and suddenly it all falls into place.  
Dwight’s odd behaviour. A young boy called Will. Uncle...  
“Uncle Jim?” he repeats, his mouth dry and his throat suddenly tight. Will nods as Ross hears footsteps approaching, not daring to look.  
Jim crouches down next to Will and wraps his arm round his shoulders.  
“What’s up, buddy? Our elf friend said you needed me.”

Ross freezes and he’s pretty sure his heart stops too. Of course it’s Jim, his Jim. He’s bundled up in his coat and hat, but there’s no mistaking him, his bright blue eyes sparkling even in the dim light of Ross’s grotto. His mind reels as he tries to work out what the fuck to do.

 _Calm down,_ he tells himself. He’s got to get through maybe one more minute before Will is out of here. Jim’s attention is focussed on the boy, not him; and he’s pretty bloody well disguised in his suit. As long as Jim doesn’t look at his face, he thinks he might just get away with it.  
Will whispers something into Jim’s ear, and Ross watches as he smiles, willing himself not to reach out and touch him like he wants to. He’s desperately cute with his nephew. Jim whispers something back, and Will lights up, finally turning to Ross and announcing with a smile, “A skateboard!”

  
Ross gives his best Santa chuckle, though inside he’s trembling.  
“I’ll see what I can do then, young Will,” he adds, hoping he’s made his voice deep enough for Jim to be thrown off.  
There’s just One. Last. Thing. One more thing to get through and then Jim will be gone.  
“I’ve got a present today though, just a little something to remember our visit by. Here,” he says, reaching into he sack of neatly wrapped gifts next to him, catching one in his hand and holding it out to Will. “This is for you.”  
“Thank you,” Will says, eyes shining brightly as he receives his gift. Jim stands up and turns to go, and Ross heaves an audible sigh of relief as he slumps slightly in the seat, heart now pounding in his chest.

  
“Wait!”  
Ross makes one long, slow blink as Will reaches the door and turns back to face him.  
“You never asked Uncle Jim what he wanted for Christmas!”  
Ross wants to be sick. He’s pretty sure he’s going to have to chuck up into the pile of fake snow behind him. He watches in slow motion as Jim ruffles Will’s hair, and then looks straight at him. Jim is wearing his best smile, dimples and all; and for a second it is plastered perfectly on his face before his mouth falls open and he takes a tiny step back.

  
Jim feels like he’s been punched in the gut. How can he have possibly not noticed? He’d been so caught up in Will that he hadn’t even looked at the guy in the red suit until now. He has to admit that it’s a fucking good costume – had Will said nothing then Jim wouldn’t have even noticed. But as he looks him straight in the eye his mind – and stomach – do a complete flip. Ross sits in front of him, looking equally aghast.

  
“Jesus,” Jim breathes, his disbelieving eyes fixed on Ross’s.  
Ross winces, and suddenly he has no idea what he’s saying.  
“Most people… most people call me Santa,” he manages weakly. Jim is fixed to the spot, and he starts to try to say something but Ross’s eyes widen imperceptibly, shaking his head and tilting it slightly toward Will, who stands staring happily at the gold-wrapped gift in his hands. There’s nothing either Ross or Jim can possibly say or do without causing all Will’s Christmas dreams to come tumbling down, and Ross can see that Dwight is already ushering the next family though, so instead he just watches horrified as Jim looks from him to Will and back again, his bewildered eyes travelling quickly up and down Ross’s costume from the shiny black boots to the fur-trimmed hat on his head, his mouth opening and closing all the while.

  
Will takes Jim’s hand and drags him back out into the mall, giving Jim time for once last tiny glance over his shoulder as they go. Ross looks so dejected; a strange, almost unreadable mixture of sadness and guilt on his face. Jim lets himself be led away and aimlessly follows his young charge for a few minutes, feet falling into place but unable to think straight. He hears Will babbling something about a carousel and finds himself sliding some coins over the ticket counter, leaning heavily on the wall as Will climbs up onto the ride and the music starts up.

  
What the fuck just happened?

  
Ross is a Santa Claus? _Holy shit_. Is that why he’s been evading Jim’s questions all this time?

It starts to make sense now, working weekends, the way he loves Christmas so much, the way he explained Dwight’s job so enthusiastically. Hell, even the way he smells, Christmas trees and candy canes and the cosy scent of the Santa suit.

  
Jim doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. He couldn’t care less what Ross does. In fact, now that he comes to think of it, it’s pretty damn lovely, really. He was fantastic with Will back there, and Jim has no idea why he didn’t just tell him sooner – until he remembers all the things he’d said about fat old guys and working with screaming kids. He squeezes his eyes shut as a wave of guilt washes over him. He can’t stop replaying the awful way Ross looked as Jim walked out.

  
Inspiration strikes him like a slap in the face. At first he isn’t sure that Ross will go with it, but fuck it; he needs to make this better, and he might as well make the most of the whole situation. He tucks his phone under his ear and waves at Will as he makes his way round the carousel, wriggling excitedly every time he passes Jim.

  
“Hey Johnny,” he says as the line picks up. “Listen, change of plans, I won’t be able to make it tonight. I know, sorry man. Something more important came up. Is Ben with you? I don’t suppose you guys could do me a massive favour, could you? I need a bit of last minute shopping doing.”

  
There’s a fair amount of laughing on the other end of the phone as Jim quickly rattles off his list, but they promise to get what he’s asked for and have it at his flat by six. Jim hangs up and runs his hand through his hair as Will hops down.  
“Ready to go mate? Come on, let’s get you home. Uncle Jim’s got some stuff to do.”

 

* * *

 

Ross yanks his hat from his head and rests his sweaty forehead against the cool surface of his metal locker, sighing deeply. He has no idea how he got through the rest of the afternoon. It had passed in a dumbfounded blur. His initial shock turned quickly to misery when he realised that in all likelihood that little encounter had spelled the end of his relationship with Jim. Jim had made it quite clear just a few nights ago what he thought of the job, and the fact that Ross hadn’t used the opportunity to tell him probably won’t do him any favours. The remaining queue of children had seemed endless, but somehow they’ve reached the end, and his last visitor has been sent on their way happy and smiling, which is more than can be said for Ross.

  
He kicks at the floor in frustration, wondering what the heck he should do now. Caroline is changed and almost ready to go out, alternating between applying her lipstick in the small mirror and shooting concerned glances at Ross. Dwight has hastily filled her in, of course; and she feels terrible for not averting the course of disaster, but Ross doesn’t blame her in the slightest. It’s his own fault, really. He figures he’ll just head back to his own apartment and go to bed. He doesn’t even feel in the mood for Christmas movies, let alone a drink. Mostly, he feels like crying, but there’s no way he’s going to do that. Not here, at least.

  
Dwight is changing next to him now, chattering non-stop, but Ross isn’t really listening. He watches Dwight fasten his smart black shirt, thinking sadly to himself that he probably won’t be needing his own very similar shirt now, folded neatly inside the locker. There’s no way Jim will want him to go to Silver’s do. He’d half-hoped that Jim would actually come back through the grotto and give him a chance to explain, but naturally that hadn’t happened.

  
“Caroline, can I just say, you look stunning,” Dwight sighs as she slings her leather jacket on over her sequinned top. “So where are you off to?”  
Caroline turns slowly to face the boys, a sly smile on her face.  
“Not sure yet. My date hasn’t told me.”  
“Date?” Dwight’s face falls. “Oh. I mean, obviously. Why would you not have a date? Is he meeting you here?”

Caroline rolls her eyes as she looks at Ross, who can’t help but smile back despite himself.  
“I should bloody well hope so. Only problem is, he hasn’t actually asked me out yet, and it would seem he’s running out of time.”

  
Dwight frowns at his shoes and mutters under his breath, and Ross counts to a full seven seconds before Dwight snaps his head up and stares at her in amazement.

  
“Have you seriously managed to turn Ross? Fucking hell Caro, he only broke up with Jim like, five minutes ago!”  
“Sometimes I really wonder what I’m thinking,” she says drily to Ross, who is busy wincing at Dwight’s cutting comment, before she turns to Dwight with a firm expression on her face. “No, you dickhead. You. You’ve been professing your love since the day we met, but you’ve never actually asked me out. Are you coming, or not?”  
Dwight gapes, his cheeks reddening as Caroline’s words sink in.  
“Oh my god. Yes. Yes! Absolutely. Fuck. Right. I mean, do you… shit, want to go for a drink? Drinks? Now?”

Caroline shakes her head in resignation and holds out her hand to Dwight, leading him through the door. Just before she leaves she plants a soft kiss on Ross’s cheek.

  
“Wish me luck. Don’t be a stranger Ross, I’ll miss you. I hope it all turns out alright. Go get him darling, he’ll understand.”  
“Cheers Caro,” he whispers dejectedly back, and watches them leave, Dwight giving him an ecstatic fist pump as he goes.

  
The changing room is suddenly very quiet and very empty. Ross slides out of his boots and shrugs off his jacket, letting it slip unceremoniously onto the floor as he automatically reaches for his phone; but his chest prickles uncomfortably when he slides it open to see the usual string of messages from Jim absent.

  
He stares at the blank screen a little longer before he throws the phone down and yanks the locker open with a groan, but he finds himself standing and staring at a neatly folded note taped to the inside of the door.

  
He reaches for it nervously, noting his fingers haven’t quite stopped trembling since his surprise encounter with Jim earlier in the day. The thick cream paper rustles as he opens it and he frowns at the message. It’s not Dwight’s handwriting, and certainly not Caro’s. He’s pretty sure it isn’t Jim’s either, even though he’s fairly sure it’s from him.

  
_**Santa baby. There’s only one thing I want for Christmas.  
My place. Eight pm. Bring the Suit. ** _

  
He reads the message twice before he turns the paper over, confused to find no further writing; and then reads it again, sinking heavily down onto the small bench.

  
He isn’t really sure what to think. On the one hand, it isn’t the message he’d expected to find. Quite frankly it sounds bloody suggestive — but there’s always the off chance that Jim is taking the piss and setting him up for an embarrassing fall, though he likes to think he knows Jim well enough by now that he wouldn’t do that to him even if he did think Ross was a laughing stock.

  
He chews his lip as he sits and tries to work out what to do, before he huffs and gropes on the floor the gather up the discarded costume and shoves it roughly into his rucksack. He takes one last look around the changing room and pulls up his collar as he leaves the grotto with his head down, feeling a little disappointed that he won’t be coming back. It’s been fun after all, until today. Shuffling out onto the snowy street, he looks toward the bus stop that he knows will take him home, but after a moment’s hesitation he sighs heavily and finds himself sloping off in the direction of Jim’s place regardless, his feet leaden and his heart in his mouth.

  
The buzzer sounds without a moment’s pause, the front door to Jim’s building clicking open almost as soon as he presses the intercom. The lights on the main landing are off, and Ross’s footsteps ring loudly as he nervously climbs the dim stairs. He raises his hand to knock at Jim’s apartment but he finds it unlatched. The door swings softly open and he steps into the living room, feeling deeply unsure of himself. The room is dark, save for one single candle flickering softly on the sideboard.

  
“Jim?” Ross calls, his mouth dry and voice shaky, but there is no answer. He looks around in confusion but his eyes fall on another note by the candle written on the same paper as the first in his locker.

 **  
We need to talk about your list.  
Dress appropriately**.

  
Ross looks down the hallway towards Jim’s bedroom, and back to the note in his hand. He lets the rucksack over his shoulder fall slowly to the floor, now almost totally lost. Does he mean…

  
Ross throws his head back and stares at the ceiling, trying to get some kind of divine inspiration; but without warning he finds himself laughing at the ridiculousness of the whole situation and before he knows it he’s fastening the wide black belt of his suit. He’s slung it on quickly, not bothering with the undershirt, white gloves or hat in Jim’s warm apartment, and at any rate, he doesn’t want to have too much to change out of when he makes his inevitable hasty exit.

  
“What the fuck are you doing, Poldark?” he mutters under his breath as he steals nervously down the hall to the bedroom, stooping down to collect three more notes scattered along the length of the corridor.

  
_**You better watch out…** _

_**  
You better not cry...** _

_**  
You better not pout, I’m telling you why…** _

  
By the time he reaches the door he is breathing hard and he swallows thickly as he pushes it open, not sure what he might find on the other side.

  
It’s nothing like he expected. The room is practically ablaze. The overhead lights are off, but fairy lights hang from every conceivable surface, including a net of them stretching across the ceiling. Three Christmas trees are crowded around the edge, their branches laden with thick fake snow. In the centre of the room sits a wide, low chair slung with white sheepskins, an almost exact replica of his own in the grotto at work. A small noise alerts him to Jim’s presence, sitting comfortably on the bed, propped up against the headboard with his legs crossed in front of him. He is dressed simply in a plain black t-shirt and black jeans, and Ross feels more than a little ridiculous by comparison in his outfit.

  
“Ahh, Jim, look…” he begins, shuffling from one foot to the other in his bulky boots, but Jim just smiles brightly and sits up straighter.  
“Santa. I’m so glad you could come.” His eyes sparkle in the light and his hair shines from white to amber in their glow. “I appreciate you’re a busy man, no more so than tonight, but I’d hoped you could spare just a little time for me.”

Ross frowns, uncertain of what’s going on.

“About earlier,” he stammers. “I ought to explain, it’s just that-”  
“No need, Santa. I was rude, I’m sorry. I was a little overwhelmed. I guess I forgot how to believe.” Jim stands up now, moving slowly towards Ross. “I’m really so glad that you’re here though,” he adds softly, watching the confusion wash across Ross’s face like a wave. He doesn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, not in the slightest – but his little idea won’t work if he breaks the charade now. He gestures to the chair in the middle of the room. “Won’t you take a seat?”  
“Jim…”  
“Please,” Jim asks, a little more desperately this time, and Ross’s wariness starts to wear off as he finally accepts that Jim isn’t going to laugh or kick him out. He sinks slowly onto the seat, keeping his eyes fixed on Jim’s, not sure of what he should do next.  
“O… Kay. You, ahh, you mentioned… a list?” he offers quietly.

  
Jim’s smile grows wider and his dimples deepen as he finally sees Ross start to become intrigued as to what he’s up to. He positions himself in front of Ross, who leans back in the chair and nervously grips the armrests.  
“That’s right. I seem to remember you have a list, who’s been naughty, who’s been nice. Am I correct?”  
“Ahh, yeah, that’s correct,” Ross nods, trying his best to follow.  
“Only, the thing is Santa,” Jim lets his hand fall onto the back of Ross’s, stroking lightly across the ridge of his knuckles, “I’m afraid I’ve been very bad.”  
“Oh?”  
“Mhmm. Very bad indeed, actually. It concerns your present. Would you like to unwrap it?” Jim asks coyly.

Ross shifts slightly in the seat.  
“A present? Umm. Sure,” he mumbles, He has to admit this is going nothing like how he’d envisaged his next conversation with Jim to go; and while the whole scenario is more than a little odd, he’s beginning to feel distinctly turned on. He knows the look in Jim’s eye very well by now, and knows he’s certainly having similar thoughts.

  
“Very well. It comes in two parts.” Jim slowly reaches into his pocket to retrieve a small package wrapped in glossy black paper and finished with a gold ribbon. Ross takes it from him and thanks him as Jim signals for him to open it. He shakes the object out of the wrapping, and a small remote control falls into his palm. He looks from the controller to Jim, eyebrows pressed low over his eyes.

  
“What is it?”

He gives one of the buttons an experimental jab, three times in quick succession. His body flashes hot with alarm when Jim suddenly falls forward, eyes screwed shut, gripping the armrests of the chair where Ross’s hands were shortly before, but it isn’t pain on Jim’s face. Jim lets out a low, long breath, his mouth falling open into a pant as Ross punches the button again. This time he is rewarded with a whimper, and Ross finds himself breaking into a grin as he realises what is going on. 

  
“Would you,” Jim groans, “Like the next part of your gift?”  
“I’m pretty sure I would,” Ross replies quietly, his tongue flicking out to wet his dry lips. Jim forces his eyes open and reaches down slowly to lift the hem of his tshirt, peeling it off and throwing it to the floor to reveal another gold ribbon threaded through his belt loops and tied in a neat bow at the front.

“Unwrap it.”  
“Jim,” Ross laughs, shaking his head, but he takes the end of the ribbon in his trembling hand all the same, giving it a light tug and watching as it unravels.

Jim’s jeans start to slide, and he hooks his thumbs in the waistband to help them on their way, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. He turns slowly, leaning forward just enough to give Ross a glimpse, earning him another laugh.

  
“My, my,” Ross hums, as he lifts his hands and traces them slowly down Jim’s bare back, pulling him gently towards himself. The fur trims of Ross’s sleeves tickle Jim’s skin, and he shudders deliciously. “You _have_ been bad.”  
“And what do you think,” Jim breathes, planting his feet a little further apart, “we should do about it?”  
“I have a few ideas.”

Ross’s mouth moves against Jim’s skin, and he draws his hands down to Jim’s ass, pressing into his cheeks with his thumbs and parting them slightly to reveal the black jewelled end of the plug. It’s his turn to let out a groan now, and he can’t stop himself from bending Jim further forward and kissing down his spine until he reaches the toy, flicking his tongue out to lick over the end.  
“Cinnamon? Really?” he snorts, licking the flavoured lube on his lips as Jim wriggles in front of him. “Doesn’t that, I don’t know, burn?”  
“Nah,” Jim mutters. “Tingles. ‘S nice.”  
“If you say so,” Ross mutters, and he licks again before he grips the plug and gently tugs it out, guiding Jim to turn and face him again.  
“Christ, Jim. This is… insane. Isn’t it?”

Ross is horribly turned on now, straining hard against his boxers underneath the thick red trousers. He’s very, very glad that he won’t have to work as Santa again after this, because there’s no way he will ever be able to get this out of his mind. His fingers trace the line of Jim’s hipbones, his eyes fixed on Jim’s erect cock just inches from his lips.

  
“Maybe. Do you think, though, that I might not be too big to sit on Santa’s knee?”  
“Fucking hell.”

Ross removes his hand from Jim’s waist and deftly unfastens his zip, pulling himself out and widening his legs and planting his boots firmly on the floor to give Jim room to sit down as he abandons all sense of control.

Jim smiles wickedly and turns himself back round to face away from Ross, lowering himself slowly onto his lap. Ross lines himself up and guides himself in, sliding easily into Jim’s velvet heat and silently thanking him for his earlier thorough preparations. They moan in unison on as Ross slides his arms up Jim’s body and brings his hands to rest on his shoulders, digging his fingers into his smooth skin as he pulls Jim slowly down onto his cock until he bottoms out.

  
For a moment neither of them move, both of them breathing hard. Ross’s head spins with the sensation and the fact that this is really happening when just ten minutes before he was fairly certain he was being asked in to collect his few scattered possessions. He buries his nose in Jim’s hair where it curls at the back of his neck, inhaling his clean mineral scent and trying not to think about how much he would have already missed this after only having known him such a short stretch of time.

  
Ross starts to roll his hips slowly, rocking Jim in his lap as he holds tightly onto his shoulders, peppering light kisses along the line of Jim’s neck. The soft fabric of Ross’s suit brushes the backs of Jim’s thighs, heightening all of his sensations. Jim leans his head back into Ross, sighing as Ross grazes over the spot that makes white lights flash behind his eyelids. Jim knows he won’t last long. He’s been toying with himself for nearly an hour, waiting in anticipation for Ross, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t just turn and run for the hills instead of showing up.

  
He reaches up to take Ross’s hands from his shoulders, linking his fingers through Ross’s as he runs their hands through the dark gold hair covering Jim’s chest to settle on his hips, and Jim plants own his feet on the floor as he begins to raise himself up, sliding back down onto Ross’s cock as Ross drives his hips up to meet him. Jim feels Ross’s thighs tense beneath him as he picks up the pace, twisting round until he meets Ross’s mouth in a messy kiss, teeth clashing as Ross licks into his mouth.

  
“Oh God, Jim. Feels so god. You feel so good, baby.” Jim tightens around him and Ross feels the telltale heat rising in him, knowing he’s close. “I can’t… I can’t hold off.”  
“Say it.”  
Ross almost doesn’t hear him, Jim’s words nearly lost through the sound of their bodies slamming together and the noise that escapes their lips.  
“Uhh?” He groans, squeezing his eyes shut as Jim takes his hand and wraps it over his own on his cock, stroking him hard in time with their thrusts.  
“Say it, Santa. Say it for me.”  
“I… Jim, I don’t know what…. Uhh, you mean…”

  
To his utter disbelief, Jim starts to sing, husky and broken as he grinds down onto Ross.  
“You better watch out, you better not cry,”  
“Oh holy fucking hell, you cannot be-”  
“You better not pout, I’m telling you why…”

Ross grits his teeth just before it hits, groaning the words into Jim’s ear.  
“Santa Claus is c….coming… ahh!” He slams up into Jim, his body going momentarily rigid as he finishes hard inside him. He isn’t sure if Jim is laughing or moaning but he follows seconds later, spilling hot over their combined hands still wrapped tightly around his cock.

Jim doesn’t know how long they stay like that, tangled around each other, both battling to breathe. His back is pressed tightly against Ross’s heaving stomach, Ross’s arm now draped tightly around his waist and his face buried in Jim’s neck. He doesn’t want to pull away but he desperately wants to look at Ross, wants to kiss him properly. He leans forward and Ross lets him go, chuckling as he looks down at the mess on his stomach.

  
“Not quite the white Christmas I’d imagined,” he grins, and he feels Ross laughing behind him. Jim slides off Ross and twists himself round so they’re face to face, and this time he sighs as they fit themselves together, legs draped across Ross’s lap and Jim running his hands through Ross’s now damp and disheveled hair to push it back from his face. His thumbs stroke along the sharp lines of Ross’s eyebrows and Ross’s eyes flutter closed in response. Jim presses light kisses onto his eyelids, down his nose, finally finding his mouth and delving lightly into it with his tongue. Ross tastes of sweet and salt, his skin as gold as the lights that hang above them and his dark eyes full of something that Jim only can only dare to hope he recognises.

  
Ross’s hands find Jim’s face too, stroking gentle circles into his temples, and when he finally speaks his voice is solemn and quiet.  
“Merry Christmas, Jim.”

  
Jim’s eyes flit from Ross’s face to the dark window, snow piling up on the ledge just visible against the night sky. A distant bell rings and Jim suddenly understands what Ross sees in it all, in Christmas and why he chases the feeling it gives him so much. Jim never imagined it would take a grown man pretending to be Santa Claus to show him, but for the first time in his life he finally understands what it all means, and he’s never been so sure of himself than when he turns back to the man beneath him and whispers words he’s never needed to say to anyone before in his ear.

  
“Merry Christmas, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this little bit of festive fun guys! Fluffier than marshmallow hot chocolate. Sorry about the smut, I’m still finding my feet with all that!
> 
> Hoping you all have a gorgeous Christmas X


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